Sunday, September 6, 2009

The Brown Rose

She gave me a brown rose,
And told me to keep it,
Between the pages of my favourite book.
And I did.
It was fake.
As I shut the book,
And put it between the others,
It squished the petals,
And released the toxin.
It burnt the pages,
And spoilt the ink.
She’d vowed to take my pleasures away.